


Here, by your side

by hereforthehurts (orphan_account)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Dream/George, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick George, Slight Emeto, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dream team, emeto, emeto warning, worried dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27916348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hereforthehurts
Summary: George is sick. Dream is worried. On call fluff ensues.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 255





	Here, by your side

**Author's Note:**

> I’m currently OBSESSED with the Dream Team rn lmao
> 
> Disclaimers: I’ve never written about real people before, so please note that all the things i write about is FICTION and if it made others/the people i write about uncomfortable, I won’t hesitate to delete it to stay respectful (though i may or may not have seen some fics that’s got more... interesting things than the ones in here lol).
> 
> Warning for slight emeto!

  
  
“Dude, where the hell have you _been?”_  
  
George shakily puts his headphones back on again, feeling his head throb with every word his friends says from the call. “Sorry, I uh…”  
  
“You good bro? You were AFK for a long time—”  
  
“Shit, do we have to start over again?”  
  
“Damn it, we were so close to The End! We almost got him, we can’t start all over again—”  
  
“Okay well we can just cut off the clips that George were afk in, right, Dream? Dream?”  
  
George felt nausea starting to rise up inside him again—he doesn’t know if it’s the yelling, the computer’s unnatural brightness _glaring_ at him, or the fact that he had been feeling sick since last night. He’s been trying his best to keep everything down, but with the constant yelling and screaming and having to focus so hard on his computer, it was impossible. He was lucky enough that he didn’t throw up all over his PC.   
  
“I… ‘M fine, I just… bad internet, I guess?” he tries to convince them through the call. He hoped that they’d at least bought his fake excuse—if they’d found out about him being sick, he’ll never head the end of it. “I’m fine, sorry about that. Continue, shall we?”   
  
A few affirmative groans from the teams. “Dream, let’s go.”  
  
“No, no,” Clay’s voice says. There’s a twinge of concern in his voice when he says it… or maybe that’s just George’s sad imagination, hoping for him to actually care about him. “We should stop for now, it’s late in here anyway. I gotta, uh, dinner.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah, family dinner tonight. We’ll continue tomorrow, alright?” He says. “Everyone stay where you are and log off, I’m closing the server.”  
  
“Fine, fine,” the team groans and began logging off one by one. There’s a chorus of “bye” “see ya tomorrow” and “say hi to Drista for me” before they disconnected from the call.   
  
Then there’s only him and the sick, delirious boy on the other side of the call, his eyes still closed and trying to ready himself to get up and go to bed. “You good, George?” Clay asks, his voice now filled with pure concern—now that, he couldn’t imagine _that.  
  
_ “I…” George swallows, shaking his head. “I’m fine. We shouldn’t…” he looks up to the screen and realized almost immediately that it was a mistake—his contents rises up to his throat, and he shuts his discord in a quick swipe of his mouse before rushing to his bathroom, kneeling in front of it and heaving like he did just minutes ago.   
  
“Shit,” he mutters, breathing heavily into the bowl. His shirt was plastered onto his skin, soaked and wet, making him feel gross. He wanted to take it all off but he was so cold, shivering despite the heat on his body. He feels a thick sludge of vomit rising up to his throat, burning its way out and he opens his mouth to let it out. George groans when he hears the water splashing against the bowl, feeling disgusted and sick all over again.   
  
He hoped that was it for now when he finally pulls away from the toilet, flushing it down before getting up on his shaky knees and stumbles into his bed. The cold, smooth sheets were comforting, at least—he pulls the covers up to his shoulders and prayed to whatever it is that’s listening for a good night’s sleep.   
  
George should’ve known that he hoped for too much.   
  
His phone rings right before he drifted off to sleep, and he groans again in agony. When he opened his eyes and reluctantly reached for his phone to see who it is, it reads, _Clay._  
  
“Shit,” He mutters once again, but he knew he had no choice but to pick it up. He knows how much of a worrier Clay could be, and leaving him with no explanation just like that would mean that he’s going to feel bad when he finally chats with him again.   
  
So, he swipes the annoying green button upwards and answered him.   
  
“Dude?” Clay’s voice asks from over the phone. “Dude, what happened? Are you okay? Why did you—”  
  
“I… ‘m sick,” George mumbles to him honestly. He could trust him. Right? “I needed to… to throw up so I went afk… sorry.”  
  
“You’re… you’re _sick?”_  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“George!” Clay exclaimed, and he winced at that. “Dude, you should’ve just told me, how long have you been…?”  
  
“Since… last night, I think?”  
  
“So you were—the whole time we recorded…”  
  
“Yeah.” George felt bad for admitting it. “It wasn’t your fault, Clay. I was an idiot.”  
  
“You should’ve just told me.”  
  
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t… didn’t wanna miss out… didn’ wanna disappoint you.” He hoped that his words were making sense. He felt so tired, so dizzy and sick, it was hard to understand what he was even saying himself.   
  
“George,” Clay sighs. “Dude… you’re not going to. You shouldn’t. you’re sick, George.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“And you know I’m never going to leave you behind. Right?”  
  
“Now… now I do.”  
  
“Good.” He says. “I should probably let you go to bed, now—”  
  
“Wait, Dream?” He calls.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Can you… can you stay on the line with me? Jus’… just for a while.”  
  
He heard him chuckle. “Alright. Though I’m sure the fans would be having a _field day_ if they ever found out about this.” Clay shivers. “God, I hope not.”   
  
“Yeah… hope not.”  
  
“Go to sleep, George.” He tells him. “I’ll be here beside you, on the call.”  
  
“Promise?”  
  
“Yeah, promise.”  
  
And with him knowing that Clay was on the other side of the call, the bed suddenly doesn’t feel so lonely nor empty anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr blog!!](https://hereforthehurts.tumblr.com/)


End file.
